


Magic On Their Lips

by Eliizabethx



Series: Sins of the Parent - Descendants [2]
Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Introspection, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25216609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliizabethx/pseuds/Eliizabethx
Summary: Magic doesn't exist on the Isle, and it tastes different for each child freed from their parents' prison.
Series: Sins of the Parent - Descendants [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826896
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	1. Mal

**Author's Note:**

> Idk man, I love magic.
> 
> This premise overtook me while I was writing a different Descendants fic, so now all of you have to look at it too.

Mal's magic is Fae - Dark Fae to be exact, and that magic comes to her as naturally as anything.

She doesn't need words or wands or staves, can feel the magic itching in her fingertips the moment she even thinks of it - she doesn't need them, but they help.

Her magic is wild, like her. Feral like she might have been if she'd been born to the Moors as her mother had. _Untamed_ \- or at least it wants to be.

Magic doesn't _want_ , but Fae magic is funny. Fae magic is instinctive and wild and feral and _other_ , but Mal was born on an overcrowded island with streets and alleys instead of woodlands, with her magic smothered behind the cage of her ribs - tangled and twisting and petulant in its captivity.

Magic doesn't want but Mal has never been Fae like her mother or her grandmother or her great-grandmother were, and her magic wants to make up the difference.

(Except magic doesn't _want_ , so it's more like the instinctive _wild_ part of Mal that never learned the feel of the Moors beneath her feet, that _hungers_ for that freedom and lawlessness.)

So, she doesn't _need_ words, but they _help_ \- they help her swallow down the excess magic that glows brightly behind her eyes and tingles in her fingertips.

Helps her learn the feel and the shape and the taste of the magic that lives in her chest.

She says her rhymes and swishes her finger, and the magic takes shape into something more manageable - something more acceptable to Auradon.

_(And when they're alone she and Ben will draw all the curtains, pull all the chairs in his room into a circle and drape his blankets over them. When they're alone they'll crawl into the small dark space and lay on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, and Mal will hold her hands up from her sides and let the magic crackle like embers. Purple fire will flicker up her fingers; blue at the tips, with green sparks raining down in the air around them.)_

Her mother's magic was thick and choking, like the fog that covered both of the Faerie's homes (maybe the Moors and the Isle were more similar than expected) - like the way she laid her goals on her daughter's shoulders, and a poisonous green color all the way through.

Her father's magic is burning cold and unpredictable, like the fire she summoned from his ember - like the stories he’s told her of the Underworld (a place she longs to see and fears in equal measure), and an icy blue color for as long as he's lived.

Mal's magic is fiery like her father's, but overwhelming like her mother's. Licking fire behind her ribcage, and dust-like specks dripping from her fingertips.

Blue-streaked hair and too-green reptile-eyes. Pointed ears and canines.

Her magic is green and blue and purple, and _hers_ \- no matter what her mother wanted, or her father warned.

She was born to the Isle of the Lost.

She was Fae and Demi-god.

She was a _Dragon_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minimal editing, I'm posting this at 1AM like the trash gremlin I am.


	2. Uma

Uma’s magic is Ancient - something pulled straight from the Deeps and whispered in her mother’s ear.

 _It is our birthright_ , her mother whispers to her once, when she’s still small and hopeful. _We are the descendants of Neptune - of Poseidon. The magic of_ Gods _runs in our veins the same way it does the Sea. Never let them steal your voice._

Uma’s magic rises and wanes like the tides; surging up her throat and then crashing back to the pit of her stomach. It strains and thrashes like a sea serpent caught in a fisherman’s net.

She finds her mother’s shell necklace and wears it like a talisman, watching the open sea outside the barrier, wondering what it would feel like - floating in it, letting it pull her down to its depths, finally feeling her magic flowing through her whole body.

The skin on her legs itches sometimes.

She likes to stand out on the deck of her ship when it downpours; turns her face up towards the sky and relishes the feel of the water pouring over her skin. Likes the way her magic coils in her stomach at the feel of it, tastes saltwater at the back of her throat and thinks she can hear the sound of waves crashing on distant shores echoing in her ears.

Her mother does not love her.

It’s something that she just _knows_ one day, when she’s no longer hopeful and bright but jaded and harsh; when she’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with her crew in the Chip Shoppe and can secretly admit that Ursula has never made her feel the way her crew does.

Her mother does not love her, but her mother still taught her.

She guided and advised and warned, taught Uma the taste and feel of their magic. Told her the story of the little mermaid she made a deal with.

Her mother is bitter, the same as most Villains on the Isle, but Ariel found a loophole, the same way Ursula herself had. Uma doesn’t hold any resentment for her cousin, she doesn’t have enough room to keep Ursula’s bitterness, not with her own burning hot in her chest every time she sees the injustice of their imprisonment.

Harry calls her a Tempest, and when the sea outside the barrier is stormy and angry and _violent_ , she can feel her magic call back just as furiously.

The first time she steps outside the barrier she wants to scream her joy to the sky and dive right off the bridge into the water.

Her magic doesn’t surge up like it did when the barrier broke for an instant - it thrums through her body like a hum; a hot-and-cold reassurance that _this is right, this is what she’s meant to feel_.

A part of her wants to peel the skin from her bones and let the sea remake her the way she always should have been.

But she stays contained to her body for the moment and focuses instead on getting what they all deserve from Auradon.

But in the still, quiet moments she still hears those crashing waves in her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you've probably noticed this still says complete, but that's because I'm just adding these as/if I write them. So _technically_ it is complete, but there might still be more additions in the future.
> 
> Thanks for reading~! ♥

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to leave a comment, I always reply and they make my week! ^^  
> You can find me on tumblr at [ElvhenWitch](http://www.elvhenwitch.tumblr.com) ♥ and twitter at [Elfbich](https://twitter.com/elfbich)


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